


New Mexico Roll

by doctorziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (though that's very mild and also consensual), Consensual Kink, Dehumanization, Dom/sub Undertones, Food Kink, Human Furniture, Humiliation, Light BDSM, M/M, Waxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorziegler/pseuds/doctorziegler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo informs McCree of a very <i>specific</i> fantasy he's always had, and McCree (also-known-as the best boyfriend <i>ever</i>, just in case anybody asks) is more than happy to oblige him in fulfilling it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Mexico Roll

**Author's Note:**

> nantaimori fic!! 
> 
> basically hanzo is a pervert who wants to eat sushi off of jesse's naked body. that's really all there is too it. jesse and hanzo are in a d/s relationship in this, and it is probably taking place in an alternate universe where hanzo's just a yakuza prince, but you can imagine it's in canon if you'd prefer. it doesn't really matter, it's just human furniture not-actually-pornographic-porn and hanzo (and jesse as well, to be fair) has a good time.
> 
> even if he's seriously gonna miss jesse's body hair. thank _god_ it grows back so quickly, dang.
> 
> [ [twitter](https://twitter.com/heatvisions) / [nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/DOOOMZO) ]

The prep had easily been the worst part of this whole thing, though, in all fairness to the man, Hanzo _had_ warned him about it beforehand.

Genji had taken it upon himself to assist Jesse in the unfamiliar process, ridding the American of every patch of hair on his body-- apart from his face and head, obviously; like _hell_ was Jesse willing to shave off his beard to fulfill this oddball fantasy of Hanzo's. Genji'd done his best not to laugh, wax strips in hand, as Jesse shrieked at each and every newly-exposed patch of hairless skin, continuously chiding him for even agreeing to do this in the first place. "Had you even heard of  _nantaimori_ before my brother mentioned it to you?"

Jesse nodded, forearm thrown across his eyes as Genji yanked off yet another hair-plastered strip of wax on the front of his leg. "'Course I had," it wasn't like Jesse _frequented_ fetish-oriented dinner joints, but so-called 'body sushi' had grown in popularity in the western world a few decades ago, and-- well. Jesse used the _internet_ , so, he'd seen a _lot_ of weird shit. Hell, in retrospect, he hadn't even thought of it as being that weird, at the time; now, laying here, buck-ass naked in front of his boyfriend's brother as he was waxed bare, maybe he'd agreed to Hanzo's request a _little_ too quickly. "Never thought I'd be participatin' in it myself, though." Jesse let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in, moving his cybernetic arm away from his face and begrudgingly meeting Genji's bemused gaze. "Especially not _as_ the damn table."

"Platter," Genji corrected, lathering his hands in what must have been a moisturizer and coming to stand behind Jesse, so the American had no choice but to crane his neck to keep the man in his sights. "You will be his _platter_ , not the table itself."

Jesse scoffed, eyes falling shut as Genji began to smooth the pleasantly-chilled lotion across his tingling skin. "Right, good. _Good_ , 'cuz, y'know, that's _way_ less dehumanizing. Bein' a plate, 'nstead of a whole damn table."

" _You_ agreed to this, Jesse. Hanzo wouldn't have held it against you if you had declined." Genji tapped Jesse on the very tip of his nose, stepping away from the preparation table that Jesse was spread out upon to rinse his hands clean. "You know how my brother is. He may be a sadist, but he will always hold your consent in the very highest regard."

With only slight discomfort, Jesse hoisted himself upright, trying his hardest to ignore just how strange his body looked without all that fur. "Yeah, yeah," he waved a hand in Genji's general direction, behaving dismissively but knowing for an absolute fact that what the younger Shimada said was the truth: Hanzo _did_ put Jesse's feelings above and before anything else, and he'd have never pushed this particular idea on his lover if Jesse had actively balked against it. " _Yeah_ , dammit, I know. I'm just-- havin' cold feet, I guess," Jesse did his best to ignore the awful bit of irony he'd thrown into that statement, knowing all too well that he'd be experiencing more than just cold _feet_ as the night wore on. "Ain't like I ever been in this kinda position before; I'm nervous, so I'm bitchin' without cause. Pay me no mind."

Genji twisted the faucet shut, wringing his hands out with a nearby towel before heading back to the table to help Jesse off of it. "You have no reason to worry," the younger man draped a pale robe across Jesse's shoulders, double- and triple-checking the American's chest and abdomen to make sure he hadn't missed any patches of hair. "He is going to be _thrilled_ , Jesse. Just wait and see."

Right.

Nothing to do now but to wait-- to wait, and see.

 

* * *

 

When Hanzo finally seated himself at the table, Jesse swore his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

He felt so _cold_ , borderline-numb from the neck down from the chilling preparation he'd been put through as soon as Genji had finished with the waxing; Jesse knew, logically, that he was cold enough that his heart was probably beating much more slowly than usual, but they didn't mean he wasn't afraid that Hanzo might actually be able to hear it pounding as the man coolly surveyed the platter of food placed before him.

Someone said something in Japanese-- Jesse supposed it must have been one of the servers, or possibly a chef? He wasn't entirely sure, nor was he permitted to turn his head to check. Jesse had to remain as still as possible, no matter how his muscles would begin to protest as the evening wore on, no matter how odd the sushi felt sitting atop his bare skin; no matter how Hanzo's heated gaze made him want to squirm. _Shit_ , Hanzo looked good like this, the very image of regal nobility, candlelight dancing on his sharp features, highlighting his cheekbones and making his eyes appear so dark that they seemed to hold no color at all. He looked-- in a word, Jesse supposed, he looked hungry, gaze roaming approvingly up and down Jesse's naked body, chopsticks held lazily between deft archer's fingers as he appraised the meal spread out exclusively for his consumption.

He replied-- also in Japanese-- to the inquiry Jesse hadn't understood with little interest, waving a hand dismissively in the speaker's direction as if indicating he'd prefer to dine alone, and undisturbed. Jesse heard the distinct sound of a sliding door opening and closing as the food staff exited the room, leaving the Master of the Shimada Clan alone-- or, well, as alone as one could be, when one's lover and submissive was serving willingly as one's dinner platter.

Damn, Jesse _really_ wished Hanzo'd just-- _say_ something already, anything'd be better than this extended, observatory silence. His skin was tingling beneath the rolls of sushi placed along his torso, and his back was already beginning to ache from the sheer discomfort on laying atop such a hard surface for an extended period of time.

" _Itadakimasu_ ," Hanzo murmured, voice barely above an intimate whisper intended for Jesse's ears alone; Jesse knew enough basic Japanese to understand that one, which loosely translated to something like ' _thank you for the food'_. "I will not allow a single morsel to go to waste."

Jesse's stomach clenched at the undisguised lust in Hanzo's husky voice, his lips parting momentarily as he fought to regain control over his body. If Hanzo noticed his 'platter's' unintentional, physical reaction, he didn't make it obvious, tucking a strand of black hair behind his ear before digging into the delicious spread placed atop Jesse's skin.

The first thing Hanzo plucked off of Jesse's body was octopus sashimi, one of three pieces resting just above the American's heart. Hanzo handled chopsticks as skillfully as he handled his bow, something that Jesse envied beyond measure; he _still_ fumbled with chopsticks, though Hanzo's refusal to teach him how to utilize them properly undoubtedly meant that he found Jesse's clumsiness _endearing_.

Bastard.

Hanzo hummed as he swallowed down the first piece of sashimi, wordlessly commentating on the impressive quality of the flavor and texture. Jesse let out a quiet breath, relieved that the food was to Hanzo's liking-- Hanzo had a _very_ sophisticated palette, and the very last thing Jesse wanted was for the man's fantasy to come crashing down around them due to poor sushi. Jesse's eyes fell contentedly shut, forcing himself to relax as his final remaining bit of nervousness was washed away by Hanzo's approval of the food.

"Perfect," Hanzo praised, thoroughly impressed, though the comment may have been directed more towards Jesse's performance than the meal itself. Typically, one had to go through weeks of training before partaking in such an ordeal; remaining still for such an extended period of time was taxing on the body, not to mention the chilling process that was put in place to keep the fish at its freshest. Jesse was doing incredibly well for someone with no experience whatsoever, only moving when Hanzo felt like being particularly cruel, 'accidentally' brushing his chopsticks across Jesse's nipples; wiping up anything he'd left behind with his fingertips, touching Jesse in all of the spots he knew were most sensitive.

Jesse gasped despite himself as Hanzo trailed the very tips of his chopsticks along the American's Adam's apple, something he simply felt like doing, that had nothing at all to do with finishing up the remaining sushi. Jesse's eyes met Hanzo's, something he'd been implicitly told _not_ to do by the restaurant's instructors, under any circumstance, but-- he couldn't help himself, not when Hanzo was being so deliberately wicked. " _Wh_ \--"

"I'm ready for the next course," Hanzo interrupted, not quite ready to let Jesse abandon their game. He snapped his fingers, looking away from Jesse with such a haughty, disinterested expression on his beautiful face that Jesse felt dizzy, no matter that he was still laying down.

 _Gimme that look again and I'd let you eat me alive, darlin',_ Jesse thought, positively shameless, hands balling into fists as he was removed from the room and prepared for the secondary portion of Hanzo's meal.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo drank down another cup of sake as Jesse was placed before him again, the second course spread out across the man's thighs, hips, and groin, including one roll of sushi resting on the topside of Jesse's dick, which was laying flat and flaccid down between his legs. His face was still burning-hot from when the chef had put that piece in place, arranging and rearranging Jesse's genitals until everything was _just_ right, and ripe for Hanzo's picking. No matter how cold he still felt elsewhere, Jesse knew he was covered in humiliated, red splotches, a blush having settled so deeply into his skin that his head nearly hurt from it; if Hanzo noticed his embarrassment, he made no show of it, simply surveying the servings scattered across Jesse's freshly-shaved pelvis.

He repeated the traditional Japanese phrase before beginning to eat once again, immediately going for the rolls spread out around Jesse's navel. If possible, Hanzo seemed even more famished than he'd been before the initial course, not _quite_ rushing his way through the appropriately-placed sushi, but not going nearly as slowly as he had before, either. Jesse's toes curled as Hanzo sucked sauce off of his own fingers, becoming more and more fixated on his lover's mouth as the evening went on. Hanzo's teeth were incredibly sharp; _dragon's_ teeth, Jesse reminded himself, gaze falling onto the bit of Hanzo's tattoo that was peeking out from within the sleeve of his formal yukata. He  _would_ let Hanzo devour him, he thought, truly, even if it were the last thing he'd ever do.

Love _did_  make you consider strange things, it seemed--  _especially_  if your boyfriend was host to an ancient dragon spirit.

"Now," Hanzo's voice snapped Jesse out of his reverie; that'd been the longest he'd gone without actively paying attention to Hanzo's actions, and Jesse found himself absently wondering whether or not Hanzo had been impressed by how still he'd just managed to be. "What ever am I to do with _this_ one?"

Hanzo's gaze fell to the roll sitting atop Jesse's cock, still obediently soft, lest he ruin the chef's plating. Jesse swallowed as quietly as he could, doing his best to focus on the ceiling instead of the bestial look in Hanzo's dark eyes. "I saved the very best for last, see," Hanzo walked his chopsticks along Jesse's thigh, which tickled seriously enough that Jesse felt about ready to leap off the table in surprise. "The only problem is, you see, I seem to have misplaced my chopsticks. A pity." As he spoke, Hanzo tossed his chopsticks away, the utensils falling to the floor with a gentle _tick_. Jesse's eyes went wide; Jesse's brow furrowed, chapped lips parting as he prepared to ask his lover what, exactly, he was up too--

"Furniture does not _speak_ ," Hanzo snapped, instantly murdering any sound that had begun rising up in Jesse's throat. "If I desired an opinion on this current predicament, I would ask someone worthy of me for an answer. I would not ask a _thing_."

Jesse might have moaned then, though the sound was muffled by the overwhelming rush of blood that surged down his body and came to rest between his hips. 

 _Oh, shit, oh, no, no no no, don't get hard, Jesse McCree, I swear to God in high Heaven, do **not**_ \--

Jesse's fingertips rubbed against the marble surface beneath him, scratching and searching for purchase, for something to stabilize himself; something to keep him focused. Hanzo was smirking, Jesse knew, without even needing to look-- he was watching Jesse struggle to stay flaccid, lest that final piece of sushi go tumbling down and away. "I suppose I ought to hurry," Hanzo said, standing up for what Jesse felt must have been the first time all night. Long fingers curled against Jesse's hip, Hanzo only momentarily taken aback by the unusual cold that was currently permeating his lover's body. "As I said, I refuse to waste _any_ part of this."

Hanzo leaned over him and suddenly, Jesse felt like he was drowning in ecstasy, Hanzo's mouth coming into contact with his cock, lips encircling the sushi roll only seconds before Jesse was _far_ too hard to keep it in place any longer.

It was the scantest of touches, but Jesse felt like he could come, if only Hanzo'd do it again; just _once_ more-- 

"Oh, my," Hanzo's fingertips rested against his own lips, gaze stuck fast between Jesse's muscular thighs. " _That_ is to be my dessert, then, I assume?"

Jesse nodded, sitting up so suddenly that every single one of his muscles screamed in protest.

It was worth it.

 

* * *

 

"It _was_ worth it," Jesse said through a breath of cigar smoke, laying atop the table with a now-equally naked Hanzo, who had a cigarette between his kiss- and _otherwise_ -swollen lips. "Even if I feel kinda like I'm gonna be creakin' 'n crackin' for the next damn _month_." The American rolled onto his side, inhaling a lungful of Hanzo's own smoke; Hanzo's vice always smelled like cinnamon and cocoa, and Jesse honestly couldn't think of a scent he found sexier in the whole damn world. "How do people _do_ that for a livin'?"

"It isn't as though it is marketed as a _safe_ career," Hanzo turned so that he was facing Jesse, one of his prosthetic legs wedged between Jesse's ankles. "Most fetishism has at least some danger to it, does it not?"

"Well, yeah," Jesse pulled Hanzo atop him, pleased that the restaurant's wait staff knew well enough not to disturb Master Shimada while he was, uh-- 'eating'. "Guess I oughta be grateful you aren't into, like, _suspension_ , or somethin', y'know, worse."

Hanzo arched a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow, straddling Jesse's lap and running both hands through his own disheveled hair, pulling it back into a lazy ponytail as he seemed to seriously consider what Jesse had just said. "... What makes you so certain I am not?"

"... _Shit_ , darlin', don't play with me," Jesse groaned, phantom pains of imaginary hooks digging into his flesh springing up at the very mention of an even _more_ rigorous fetish-session. "At least lemme recover from _this_ , first, god _damn_ , alright?"

Hanzo smiled.

Sometimes, Jesse _hated_ that smile.

[FIN]


End file.
